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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28168026">When Winter Yields to Spring</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bun_tama1505/pseuds/bun_tama1505'>bun_tama1505</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Blood and Gore, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nords (Elder Scrolls), Slow Build, Snow Elves (Elder Scrolls)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:14:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,807</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28168026</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bun_tama1505/pseuds/bun_tama1505</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amajiki Tamaki/Toogata Mirio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Unforgiving</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The air was crisp and cold. Gusts of wind whistled over the stone walls every five to ten minutes, and every time it sent a shiver down Tamaki’s spine. Where he was sitting wasn’t exactly helping, either. He was curled against the wall of the castle in the marketplace. Even though he was dressed as warmly as ever, having his back pressed against Windhelm’s hard, cold walls was making his muscles seize up. However, he had to admit to the fact that Windhelm’s stonework was beautiful. The walls were so worn now that they looked as if they were slicked with oil. He had tuned out the sound of the blacksmith loudly hammering his steel hours ago when he first arrived in Windhelm, but whenever the Nord would quench his blade into the trough of water, the hissing of hot steel would bring Tamaki back to his depressing reality. Vendors at the market 10 feet away were shouting at the top of their lungs, no doubt trying to sell their produce before it went rotten. That was one of the advantages of selling or buying perishables in the coldest fucking place in Skyrim. Nothing spoiled fast. The cold kept most apples from withering, and prevented potatoes from going soft. All you had to do was shove the goods you wanted to preserve in a sack, and leave it in a snow bank to the left of the front door to your house. You could leave it there for months at a time, Tamaki had learned from watching the city's residents. Not that he would know anything about that. He had neither a house nor food. He had arrived in Windhelm a fortnight ago, and since then he had only eaten a few apples and a carrot or two. He also had a hunk of bread that he had stolen from that blonde Nord’s stand at around 3 am on his first night here. He had planned to take more, but just seconds after he had wrapped it in a rag and slipped it into his bag, a guard had shot him a warning look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since that night, the number of guards in the marketplace had tripled. And because of that, he had nowhere to take from now, and his bread was as cold and hard as the ground he sat on. He was limiting himself to a piece of it every two days now, but that wasn’t enough. He was withering away to nothing. The dry, freezing weather that he had had to endure was worsening, and he could feel his ribs poking from his skin when he hugged himself at night to keep warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tamaki pursed his lips. His eyes were boring holes into his hand that was grasping the handle of his dragonbone dagger, which he was using to engrave details into a wooden bow that he had sprawled across his lap. His fingers looked like that of a skeleton’s, his knuckles protruding sickeningly from their sockets and stretching his soft, pale skin over and across them like leather on a tanning rack. When he pressed the blade into the wooden trails on the bow he had been working on since he had entered Windhelm’s walls, the bones in his wrist that stuck out made his stomach turn. With his jaw set, Tamaki swiped his blade roughly across the wooden frame of his bow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed to eat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had tried going to the inn, Candlehearth Hall, when he first stepped through the city gates. But with each step he took up the stairs to the door (being careful not to slip on the black ice that had formed on them) he could feel the gazes that he was getting from the guards becoming more and more intense. He had told himself to just keep walking. To ignore the feeling that everyone within a 30 foot radius wanted to drag him by his ear and toss him into the freezing cold waters that surrounded Windhelm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he did ignore it, until he couldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guard that was posted outside the doors to the inn grabbed him by the wrist when Tamaki had reached for the handle. Not only had Tamaki’s heart fallen into his boots from pure fear when that happened, but a part of him was also angry. Angry at how the thick, worn leather gloves that the Nord wore felt against Tamaki’s own wrist that was so small in comparison. His fingers were fat like sausages and, surely enough, guess what the guard had smelled like? Tamaki pictured the guard later that night when he had sat himself in front of the blacksmith, and what a typical night in his life would look like. After thoroughly explaining to Tamaki that “pointy-eared people don’t belong in Windhelm” and to “take you and your purple eyes and get the fuck out of our city, you elf”, he would have jumped back on his high horse and spent the rest of his day watching Tamaki to make sure he didn’t steal anything. Then after that, Ulfric’s little pawn would probably have gone back to the nice, warm barracks in the Palace of Kings for a home cooked meal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Probably something with sausages. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tamaki pushed the sour memory from his thoughts. His mouth had filled with saliva. Sheathing his dagger, he rose to his feet and fixed his bow on his back. It was around 8 o’clock in the evening. It was the 25th of Sun’s Dusk, so the days were becoming shorter and shorter each time the sun rose in the morning. It had gotten dark hours ago, but the vendors were now just beginning to place long blankets of burlap over their goods for the night. Tamaki always wondered why they did that. It was to prevent thieves like him from getting an easy five finger discount, this he knew. But with all the guards that were positioned in the marketplace, what was the fricken’ point? If he really wanted to steal something, a piece of flimsy fabric and a few hold guards wouldn’t be able to fucking stop him. The only thing that was stopping him? His conscience. He felt horrible stealing that bread from the produce stand 2 weeks ago. With each bite he took, his stomach thanked him but the rest of his body shamed him. He hated the guards, and the fact that they thought that they could belittle everyone who wasn’t a Nord. And technically, they could. If only Tamaki had been a Nord, or even just someone from High Rock, hell! As long as it was someone with regular ears, blonde hair, and fair skin, he wouldn’t be begging on the street corner like this. His parents wouldn’t be dead. He would have been able to get into Candlehearth Hall without trouble. He probably would have been given a free meal from the innkeeper, too. As long as he told her a story about how he grew up in a town run by Imperials, or Stormcloaks, or whichever side was favouring which side nowadays. Tamaki didn’t care to keep track. He just knew that everyone hated him because... well, the guard was right. Because of his pointy ears and the colour of his eyes. These people weren’t stupid, they knew that an elf brought trouble with them wherever they went.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He told himself that he should just leave tonight. If he conjured up enough of his strength he could probably make that bread last until he got to Riften. A smile curved onto his lips as he reached into his bag and pulled out the hard loaf of said bread. Crumbs fell all over his pants, but he didn’t care as he broke off a piece and planted it in his mouth. It felt rough against his tongue. It was mouldy, sure, but he was so hungry that he truly didn’t give a shit. It even tasted kind of good to him. Sure, some jam would pair nicely with it, but... Beggars can’t be choosers, or whatever. Tamaki noticed that there was only a little less than half of it left-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thoughts were interrupted when he saw a pair of boots he recognized all too well stop in front of him. The fur boots belonging to the Stormcloak soldiers were hard to misidentify, even if you weren’t from Skyrim. But lucky for Tamaki, he was. They were worn with dried blood and melted snow on them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tamaki began to panic. The guards had never just... approached him like this. They only harassed Tamaki if he ever went to go into a shop or if he lingered around one of the meat or produce stands for too long. This could only mean trouble if they were talking to him head on like this. They wouldn’t dare kick him out of the city, right? He had a right to be within the city’s walls, as long as he didn’t commit any crimes or cause any other sort of trouble. Which... okay he hadn’t exactly followed those rules, but no one had saw him do it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You.” The guard’s Nordic accent was heavier than most. It was a deep, frightening tone that honestly scared Tamaki a little bit. But all he had to do was close his eyes and remember what it felt like to be manhandled outside of the inn that day, and he suddenly wasn’t afraid anymore. Instead, Tamaki dropped his chin to his chest so that his black hood would obscure his face and maybe even hide his ears. Only then would the guard piss off and leave him alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You. You stinking elf. You’re coming with me.” The guard’s voice had more clarity to it now because he had taken off his helmet. He really shouldn’t have done that. He was going to need it in the next couple of moments if he didn’t keep walking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tamaki dropped his bread. It fell on his lap and rolled into the snow. The green of the mould contrasted against the freshly fallen snow like a flawless emerald necklace resting on the chest of a queen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You stupid fucking creature. Are you deaf? Those silly ass ears of yours not working anymore? I said you’re coming with me. Now get up, before I drag you by your hair to your cell.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tamaki’s hand ghosted over the hilt of his dagger that sat in its sheath on his left hip. He looked around at his surroundings, ignoring the guard but keeping a close eye on him in case he made any sudden movements. There were 3 guards in his line of sight, including the one in front of him. One next to the meat vendor, the one currently nudging the tip of his boot into Tamaki’s shin, and one next to the produce vendor. That vendor was the only civilian left. All the others had gone home to their hearths. Tamaki eyed her carefully. She was hiding behind the guard that was posted next to her stall, and her eyes were unblinking as she watched with furrowed brows and crossed arms at what the guard was doing to Tamaki. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, the Nord had had enough. He threw his leg back, winding it up, and then forced it forward with all his might. It met with Tamaki’s face, the blunt end of the guard’s boot crushing Tamaki’s nose. The feeling made Tamaki curl in on himself, something he hadn’t meant to do. He couldn’t help it, though. Feeling the cartilage and bone on the bridge of his nose crunch and twist under the impact of the blow was so disgusting it made him show sign of weakness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand didn’t falter from where it lay on the hilt of his dagger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling warm blood begin to pour from his nose like a fountain, he wrapped his nimble, shaking fingers around the dragonbone shaft at his side and pulled it out of it’s cover.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything that happened after that was a blur for Tamaki. Tears filled his eyes from the pain, but that didn’t impact his ability to fight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let loose. Tamaki wasn’t sure if it was from blind rage or complete and utter shock, but once he got to his feet he wasted no time in lunging at the guard in front of him. The towering Nord was taller than him, but Tamaki was faster. Indigo eyes met with brown as Tamaki smiled, his sharp canines making the guard rear his head back in fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bad move-“ Tamaki growled, blood pouring over his lips and seeping onto his teeth as he laughed horrifically through a clenched jaw. He aimed for the opening that the guard had oh-so-kindly supplied him with, and wasted no time in plunging his dagger into the stubbled skin of the Nord’s throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood sprayed from the opening, fanning out over Tamaki’s face. The Nord’s warm blood mingled with Tamaki’s on his soft, fair complexion. It obscured his vision, but he just wiped at his face with his bare hand and paid his attention to the other two Stormcloak soldiers that began rushing over. One had an iron warhammer, and the other a rusted iron sword and shield. Tamaki felt the mess on his face beginning to leak into the collar of his leather armour and down his chest. He didn’t care, he would clean himself after he disemboweled these two brutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t realized it, but he had been craving this since he had been denied entrance to Candlehearth Hall. After he had been belittled like that in front of everyone. Sure, he was used to being disrespected and treated like absolute shit. But that didn’t change the thirst for violence that he had. He wanted free reign at the throats of every guard in the city. And now he was getting his chance. He wanted them to pay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, naturally, Tamaki was going to make them pay with their blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His frantic, indigo eyes were wide and manic as he flung his dagger towards the Nord with the warhammer. He had it reared up behind his head, ready to bring it down on the elf. The dagger flew towards him and made contact with his chest, breaking through the material of his cuirass. Tamaki could already see crimson red flowering from the blue sash on the guard uniform, and what a beautiful sight it was. The soldier with the shield stopped in his tracks and watched as his comrade fell to his knees, his gloved hands fumbling towards the dagger that stuck out of his torso. He was desperately trying to pull it out, but he fell lifelessly onto his side instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You damned elf.” The voice of the last guard standing was muffled from the helmet he wore. He didn’t have a Nordic accent like the other two. His voice was high and squeaky, shaky like that of a child’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy in a man’s body put his shield up in front of his face and began running at Tamaki. He had the shield up in front of his face, like a dumbass, Tamaki thought to himself. It was hard not to laugh at how untrained these guardsmen were. He was kicking all of their asses at his weakest, still able to bring them to their knees when he was starved and dizzy from hunger and bloodlust. Tamaki turned his shoulder to the shield, and put all his weight into bashing it against the hard surface as it made contact with him. The guard went flying back onto his ass, and his helmet had fallen off of his head. The impact must have been a lot, because Tamaki’s work had basically been done for him when he looked down at the Nord and saw that the back of his skull was cracked from where it had bounced off the cobblestone ground at some point. Blood pooled out from his skull, spreading out around his head and neck on the ground like a crimson red halo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tamaki’s chest heaved. He reckoned that he had a limited amount of time to get the fuck out of this frozen hell before the rest of the city’s guard realized that this part of Windhelm was unmanned. Oh, and that their brothers in arms had been slaughtered and splayed out all over the marketplace like meat at a vendor’s stall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speaking of vendors, Tamaki’s ears twitched with interest as he heard the sound of bated breaths and whimpering. Making sure he walked on the balls of his feet to stay quiet, he bent down and pulled his dagger out of the chest of one of the corpses. A little bit of blood flowed out of the knife wound, telling Tamaki that the guard was still alive. However, he knew that the Nord would die within the coming minutes, either from blood loss or from the cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tamaki bent his knees slightly and began creeping over to the produce vendor’s stall. He looked at the brown fabric that was splayed out over the counter. He could see the outline of a variety of produce and goods under it, like fresh fruit and bread. The corners of his mouth upturned in a small smile when he turned the corner. There sat the vendor that he had stolen the bread from, and who had been safely hiding behind one of the guards mere minutes before he had dealt with all three of them. She was crouched down on the ground, and the light grey fabric of her dress was already beginning to darken from the snow that had wet the material. She was shivering and holding her arms in front of her face like a shield. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked horrified. Tamaki was at a loss for words. She had found out that Tamaki had been the one who had stolen that loaf of bread from her stall, and then she had went and snitched to the guards. He should kill her for that, but he had already killed 3 people today. He hadn’t even left the walls of the city yet, and guilt was already settling like a rock in the pit of his stomach. Tamaki had sat across from her stall every day, and she just watched him wither away. She had never offered him any of the food that had spoiled or went too soft to sell. Maybe he was greedy for wanting it, but he was also angry with the woman for being so cold. Figures, though. He had yet to come across a friendly Nord. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was just another one of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tamaki scowled. The blood that had dried on his chin cracked and fell off of his face in flakes. He knelt down next to the woman, and he laced his fingers into the twine that was tying the corset of her dress together. Tamaki pulled her tear-stained face close to his own. His knuckles were poking into the sides of her supple breasts that overflowed from the fabric, and he couldn’t help but laugh as he brought the dagger to her throat and pressed just hard enough to scare her into submission. She made a sound similar to the one a rabbit makes when you twist its neck before skinning it. A frightened, breathless yelp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhh...” He cooed at her. She reeked of alcohol, which Tamaki couldn’t stand the smell of. He had gotten sick on it once, and since then he vowed to never drink again. It was too expensive, and it just made you feel like crap the next morning anyways. The smell was stinging his nostrils, and the fact that his nose was probably broken in nine different ways wasn’t helping. She had bruises trailing down her neck and onto her collarbone, some looked like they were left by an elf with sharp teeth just like his. Tamaki knew that the likelihood of that was very low, though. A burly Nord had probably had his way with her recently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was quivering. Her teeth were chattering, and her brows were drooping as her eyes stayed frozen and unblinking in shock. Tamaki growled, a low and guttural sound from deep in his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was running out of time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dropped the dragonbone dagger from her throat and put it away at his hip. Shrugging the leather bag from his shoulder, he dropped it in her lap and released the hold that he had had on her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fill it. Now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scrambled to her feet and Tamaki rose to his own. He watched as tears fell from her eyes and trailed down her flushed cheeks. She wasted no time in yanking the cover off of her goods and began shoving food into his bag. Apples, tomatoes, a leek, cheese wedges, potatoes, and a couple pouches of spices. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman stopped her motions when she heard the sound of weapons being drawn on the other side of the stone wall that separated the marketplace and Windhelm’s graveyard. Tamaki heard it too. There had to be at least ten or fifteen men from what he could hear, and they sounded angry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tamaki yanked his bag from the woman’s hands and threw it back over his shoulder. He didn’t make eye contact with her or thank her as he jumped over the wooden frame of the stall and began running as fast as his legs would take him towards the big steel doors of the city. He made it there in a matter of seconds, and he thanked the fact that it was dark and the snowfall had put out the fire pits at the entrance. Because of that, he was able to slip out of the city without any more guards on his trail than there already was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t falter when the two guards outside of the gates lunged at him to try and stop him. He just sprinted across Windhelm’s stone bridge like his life depended on it, because... well, it did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lungs burned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head spun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His legs gave out eventually. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hoped that he had gotten far enough from the city, and that collapsing into a deep snow bank to hide his body was a smart move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, if someone was to just come across a Snow Elf’s body on the side of the road, Tamaki knew that he would suffer the same fate as those guards who had crossed him, and who now lay lifeless within Windhelm’s walls. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was born in Skyrim. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Nords and Imperials fight over who Skyrim truly belongs to, but they fail to cease their squabbling and acknowledge that Tamaki’s kind were here first. The Snow Elves were the first race to make Skyrim their home. They were here before Ysgramor himself introduced the Nords to this frozen wasteland, causing those big brutes to displace Tamaki’s beautiful race; forcing almost the entire population underground. Over the years of subterranean slavery, the elven race were twisted and formed into the vile creatures now commonly known as the Falmer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes Tamaki has dreams about the hours he would spend curled up on his mother’s lap in front of the hearth in his family’s homestead just outside of Dawnstar. When he was eight years old, he would shut his eyes, and his mom would rest his head against her clothed breast and softly speak in her mother tongue to him. She had an ethereal voice, and he wakes up in a cold sweat some nights because he swears that she was beside him telling him stories again, speaking directly into his ear. He would cry himself back to sleep after realizing that she now only existed in his dreams. She had long, silver-white hair that reached all the way down to her thighs in loose curls. She would braid it whenever she would go hunting with his father, and he would wash the blood out of it for her when they came back home afterwards. Her ears were just like his, pointy and sensitive to the touch. Her eyes were icy blue and kind, like that of an angel’s, (if an angel knew how to make the best Sweetrolls in Skyrim). He wished that he could force his memory to remember the stories she would tell him. He had cracks in his memory, but Tamaki does remember the night that would go on to change the course of his life forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother, Haruno, and his father, Ryosuke, had just gotten back from hunting. Haruno had caught an elk in the woods outside of their homestead, and Tamaki had helped his father clean it out and prepare a stew for dinner. What they hadn’t used in the stew, they cured with piles and piles of salt and stored in barrels that they kept in the cellar for later use. They sat around the hearth in a semicircle, and while his mom and dad had finished eating, Tamaki was still slurping away at his bowl and chewing loudly on his meat. His canines had come in the year before, and his mother had gotten into the habit of poking them with her finger whenever she caught Tamaki smiling. She got to do it a lot, as Tamaki was “one of the happiest kids in Tamriel”, according to his father. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haruno was leaned back on one hand, her legs stretched out in front of her, and her other hand stroking Tamaki’s raven hair while he ate. It shined different shades of purple when he sat in front of any source of light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He has your hair and your eyes. That’s it, Ryosuke. Everything else? That’s all me. I mean, just look at him.” Tamaki’s mother had whispered under her breath proudly. She stroked a finger down one of Tamaki’s ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It twitched funnily, and he gave her a side glance that was mixed with annoyance and curiosity. He raised an eyebrow at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, darling. Go back to eating. There are seconds or… thirds, if you want.” She raised her eyebrow right back at him. She sounded like she was challenging him to see how much he could eat. Did she want him to blow up?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well if he is even half as good as a hunter as you are, then he’s the luckiest little kid in the world. Wouldn’t you say?” Ryosuke said as he twirled his dragonbone dagger in his hand. The blade glinted in the firelight with each twist and turn in between his digits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Haruno hummed, continuing to play with Tamaki’s hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While most Snow Elves had hair as white as freshly fallen snow, Ryosuke’s hair was a deep shade of purple and his eyes weren’t light blue or yellow like most Snow Elves’ either. His were indigo to match his hair. So yes, Tamaki really was the spitting image of his father, and his mother always promised that he would be as handsome as her husband when he was older. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After dinner had been finished and the dishes had been washed, the Amajiki family settled in for the night. Ryosuke helped Tamaki change into his bedclothes and tucked him in. Haruno was outside tending to the horses and making sure their water troughs were full. When she came back in, she made sure to kiss her son goodnight. She sat on the wooden chair next to Tamaki’s bed. It was much too small for her, so much so that her knees tucked to her chest when she sat in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you feeling, Tamaki? Was dinner good?” Her voice was warmer than the furs that he lay underneath. He looked towards his mother, her crystal-like eyes clashing with his dark ones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. It’s makin’ me sleepy.” Tamaki mumbled as he rubbed at his eyes with balled fists. Haruno smiled at him, and brushed one of his bangs off to the side. It tickled his face, and he smiled wide as he giggled. His eyes creased closed as his laughs shook him, and he began laughing even harder when he felt the tip of his mother’s finger dragging and poking along one of his canine teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mooom, please! That tickles!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tamaki whined and squirmed as his mother expanded her ministrations to behind his ear, and then in the junction where his neck met his shoulder; just above his collarbone. Her fingers were nimble and thin, but fast and strong. She knew that, they both knew that. So when Tamaki began crying out for her to actually stop because he was getting a stitch in his side from laughing, Haruno let up. Instead of the torturous tickling, Haruno embraced her only son in a hug. She buried her nose into his neck and planted a kiss there. In her mother tongue, she told him that she loved him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she shut the door on her way out, she glanced back at her son and smiled. Then, she let her eyes fall closed gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tamaki. Find someone who loves you for who you are, not what you are. Find someone who gives you a reason to wake up in the morning. Someone who will travel to Oblivion and back with you. Find that someone, and hang on to them. Be their equal. You, their moon. And them, your sun. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You will be the last of our kind come morning.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Find someone, and inspire each other to live your lives to their limits.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Haruno opened her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tamaki was fast asleep. With how much of the stew he had eaten, he damned well should have been. She blew out the candle in the wall sconce next to the doorframe, and the room went dark. She turned the wrought iron key in the lock that was on Tamaki’s door, then pulled the key out and set it on his dresser. The door squeaked shut on its hinges, and the latch bolt clicked shut into its socket, locking it from the inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haruno then joined her husband in bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both feigned sleep until they heard the front door being pried open, and when that wasn’t working for the intruder, it was kicked down. Neither of the elves moved from their positions. Haruno and Ryosuke’s hands were intertwined underneath the soft, heavy furs they lay under. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They squeezed each other’s hands and held their bated breaths when they heard the sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath at the foot of their bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Live, Tamaki.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hers was the throat that was opened first. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Tamaki was nauseous when he woke up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe because the house smelled gross, like their parents had left the innards and skin from last night’s elk uncovered somewhere in the house. Their parents were amazing hunters, so it puzzled him as to why they had done that. He was dizzy when he sat up in bed. He felt weak, too. His arms were like jellied snowberries when he threw the furs off of himself and swung his shaky legs to the edge of his bed. He wasn’t tall enough for his feet to touch the floor when he sat on furniture yet, so he hopped out of bed. Literally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waited a moment before walking to the door. He let his head stop spinning, and he gave his blood time to evenly disperse throughout his body. Tamaki looked out the window while he waited, and even though he was currently seeing two of everything (was he coming down with something?), he was able to make out the cloudy skies over the top of the trees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Tamaki got a stronger waft of whatever the hell was stinking up the halls of their homestead. He gagged, and bile rose in his throat like soup bubbling over in a cauldron over a fire pit that had been abandoned and forgotten about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallowed his vomit back down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom?!” He shouted, hoping that she was sick as well and he wasn’t the only one dying from the result of last night’s dinner. His voice was muffled by his hand, Tamaki was using it to cover his mouth and nose. He wanted his mother to come to his aid. Bring him a basin to be sick into, and rub his back, and tell him that everything was going to be okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got no reply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frustrated, Tamaki dropped his hand from his face and planted it on the doorknob instead. He twisted and pulled, but the stupid thing didn’t budge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He yanked harder, and figured that his mom must have locked the door after he had fallen asleep last night. He scoffed and grabbed the key that she always left on his dresser. He used it to open the door, and when he pulled it open, well, then he really did vomit. He was hit with a wave of humidity and the vile stench of decomposition, and he couldn’t help the torrent of sick that spewed from his mouth. It landed with a splash on the floorboards in front of him. He gasped when the last of it left his mouth, and his eyes began tearing up from how awful the air smelled and how stagnant it was. He ignored the sound of his sick dripping through the wood pallets and onto the floor below, which was the kitchen, and decided to pull the collar of his shirt up over his nose. Tamaki thought back to the days when he would wake up and be greeted with the wonderful smell of fresh Sweetrolls baking in the oven in the room below him. The floor was made of wood that wasn’t completely built the best, they had gaps so big you could see through them, and Tamaki remembers his mom telling him that when he was learning to walk; she needed to keep a close eye on him in case he got a foot or hand stuck in the spaces. He wished that he could have woken up on a day like one of those instead, where his mother would be calling him down to the dining table for Sweetrolls and blackberry jam right about now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, <em>he </em></span>
  <span>was crying out for <em>her</em></span>
  <span> right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom?!” He cried out again, tears streaming down his cheeks from both fear and the reek of what he </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought </span>
  </em>
  <span>was a dead animal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped over the pile of his sick, it was a disgusting dark orange colour with chunks of undigested venison stew in it. After that, he all but threw himself down the stairs. He landed at the bottom on his knees, and he was full on sobbing at this point. Anxiety welled up in his chest. His parents had locked him in his room while the place smelled so vile it was making him physically ill. Did they hate him? Did his mother not love him anymore? She had told him that she had loved him before he had fallen asleep, hadn’t she? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart sank into his stomach. Why couldn’t he remember falling asleep last night? He remembered his mother tickling him, and that was it. After she had let up with the tickling, his world went dark. He recalled being so sleepy that his eyelids felt like they were made of stone, and his stomach feeling all fluttery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tamaki’s legs were carrying the rest of his body as he tromped across the main hall, past the hearth, until he was standing in front of his parents bedroom door at last. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt a draft coming from the front door. He looked behind him and saw that it had been kicked down. It lay on the floor in eight different shattered pieces, splinters both large and small surrounding the disastrous scene. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tamaki swore that if this was some sort of sick prank that the two of them were trying to pull on him, he would never forgive them. He would cry and grab onto his mother’s frosty curls and never let go. He would beg to be picked up, and he would never leave the comfort of being pressed against his mother’s breasts and slightly pudgy stomach for as long as he lived. He would cry softly into her ear and ask for her to read him a book, or tell him a story. He was comfortable there. It was his happy place. When he felt his mother’s pulse through her soft skin on his own chest, that was when he was happiest. He could fall asleep there. He could be weak there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom? Dad?” Tamaki said meekly as he rapped on one of the two wooden doors that opened to their room. They had ruins carved into them, with blue and red colouring on the border and main panel. In reality, it was just crushed up snowberries and juniper berries that had been brushed on with horse hair. Tamaki’s mom and dad brought it home from a mill one day and attached it to the hinges themselves. Tamaki had carved his initials into the bottom left of the right door when he was six or seven and had stolen his father’s dragonbone dagger for a couple of hours while he was on a trail ride with his mom and the horses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet again, he did not receive a reply. He whined out in frustration and worry. And with one hand clutching his stomach, he reached with the other to push open the left door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It swung open easily with a creak, and the morbid scene that he was met with was something he would never, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> forget. He knew that he was experiencing something traumatizing, but he had no idea how to process what his eyes were seeing. He would have nightmares about this for the rest of his life, he just knew it. Even though he was eight years old, he could see himself in the future being unable to ever close his eyes and sleep peacefully without seeing this image flashing through his mind. He could see it now: a book with too many pages to properly count, and on every piece of parchment inside was the image of his parents’ necks split open like the belly of the elk that he and his dad had skinned together the night before. The pages kept flipping over, and over, and over; until all he could see was decaying flesh flashing before his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tamaki’s hands hung lifelessly at his sides. He dizzily rocked back and forth, alternating his weight from his heels to the balls of his feet. His eyes were wide and deranged, not moving from his parents’ stiff corpses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hiccuped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His chest lurched a little bit forward, and his lips parted for the vomit that slowly poured out of his mouth and ran down the front of his sleep shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Covered in his own bile and tears, Tamaki finally collapsed onto his knees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another clap of thunder rolled overhead, but all that was heard throughout the halls of the Amajiki’s homestead were Tamaki’s fitful screams of horror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Healing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>His face hurt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Specifically his nose, but that pain was accompanied by a throbbing headache that kept radiating from behind his eyes to the back of his neck. His limbs were so stiff that he suddenly understood how the draugr in all the ruins and crypts he had desecrated over the years felt. He felt as if he were to even open his eyelids, that they would crumble into bone meal and his sensitive state would turn his brain to mush. While the surface of his skin was warm, he had a chill that had taken root in the marrow of his bones and was refusing to leave anytime soon. His spine felt as chilled and stiff as an icicle, and it reminded him of where he had spent the last two weeks; with said back plastered against Windhelm’s freezing stone walls. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was all coming back to him now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Windhelm. The guards. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His nose. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The produce vendor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His nose</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He also remembers making the stupid, split-second decision to jump into a mound of snow when he felt his consciousness beginning to leave him. That explained why he had a chill that he couldn’t shake, but it left one question unanswered that sent a wave of fear throughout his sore frame, and that was the matter of what had happened to him, and who had found him and dealt with his senseless body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki let himself become attuned to his senses. He wasn’t in a snowbank anymore, or even outside. He was somewhere warm. He wiggled one of his fingers, and he felt soft fur caress the tip of it. After being out in the cold for so long, after being neglected the comfortable atmosphere of the indoors for almost two weeks, Tamaki reckoned that it felt… nice. It made the faintest rustling sound as he dragged the digit back and forth along the softest fur he had ever felt in his life. Mountain goat, or maybe sabre cat? Tamaki couldn’t be sure. On top of that, he heard the crackling of a firepit. It wasn’t in the same room he was in, the sound was too quiet. It echoed in from another room nearby. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His ear twitched in shock as he heard someone sniffle. The appendage drooped backwards, the tip of his pointed ear pointing towards the back of his neck. Slowly, it stiffened back up. The tip flicked a few more times, and Tamaki tried to get it to sit still. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So someone was in the room with him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That wasn’t good, by any means. He was trying to keep his breathing steady, and he hoped that his captor wouldn’t be able to tell that he had awoken. From the tip of his cold toes to his even colder nose, Tamaki didn’t move a muscle. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, and if he played his cards right he could get out of here alive and in one piece. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few months ago, just before Autumn had started, Tamaki had been in a similar situation. He had been hunting in the forests outside Riften, and he had the perfect shot at a deer. All he had to do was send the arrow flying, but instead he got an arrow through </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>shoulder. A hunter had shot him through his left shoulder with an arrow that had been doused in paralytic poison. She had then dragged him (and the deer) back to her cabin. She made him watch as she cleaned out the deer, and then took an hour-long bath right in front of him. She fancied him, he realized as he had the arrow yanked from his shoulder. But that just pissed him off more. After she had bandaged up his wound and kissed it better (Tamaki was tempted to rip her tongue from her mouth for that) she had gone to bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He slit her throat while she slept. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki took the meat from the deer she had cured after skinning it that same night. He didn’t take any of her belongings or jewels, though. He just wanted her life in return for the food that she had so rudely stolen from him, and for shooting him. He didn’t need gold or wealth at that time, so he didn’t feel that he had to loot her chest or safes. If only he could have seen himself in Windhelm 3 months later, begging on the street corner and living off crumbs of mouldy bread. He sure could have used the dozens of rings and necklaces donned with sapphires and rubies today, or even two weeks ago when all that horse shit in Windhelm had begun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was alright. He would get himself out of this just like he had that night. The only difference between that night and this one is that this assailant wouldn’t want to steal his chance at a delicious dinner, flash their tits at him for a prolonged amount of time, and then be foolish enough to fall asleep. However, Tamaki wasn’t so sure about that part where he was shot in the shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anyone and everyone in Skyrim wanted to harm him. This was a fact. This was known. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki didn’t dwell on that, he didn’t care at the moment. All he cared about was getting out of here alive. Wherever “here” was. He would wait until he heard the person in the room with him leave. After that, he would find his belongings (he was not in his armour anymore, and he could not feel the safety of his dagger on his hip) kill whoever had dared to trap him in their house, and then run as far away from Windhelm as possible. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hoped that he wasn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>in</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eastmarch anymore. He didn’t need to step outside and still have a bounty of almost four-thousand gold septims on his head. That was actually the last thing that he needed right now. Well, unless this poor asshole in this room with him has more than four-thousand septims laying around. Then he would be fine with having his bounty! He would fling the purse at the stupid guard, or maybe even Ulfric himself, and tell him to shove it so far up their ass that they would hear coins rattle when they sang. Tamaki also hoped that it would be night time soon. He didn’t want to pretend to be asleep for the next however many hours, he wasn’t sure he could even stay still that long. He continued to do it anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or at least he thought he had. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never seen a Bosmer’s ears do that before.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki’s eyes shot open. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stupid fucking ears…” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tamaki thought to himself as he looked around at his surroundings. He was in a bedroom. He had been laid down in a canopy featherbed that could easily hold 5 other people of his size and stature in it with how large it was. The room was dimly lit with wall sconces, and it was decorated with mounted elk and sabre cat heads, a couple of bookshelves, and there were two wardrobes on either side of the bed he was in. He learned that the fur he lay underneath was indeed a mountain goat’s, and the way that the pristine white coat shone in the glow of the candlelight hinted that it had been caught recently, too. He had to admit that it, as well as the multiple woven blankets, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> the linens that lay on top of him were excessive. He had nearly frozen to death, so he understood why his captor had layered them on so thick, but he supposed that it was okay for now; especially after not feeling warmth like this in so long. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room was extremely luxurious overall. It looked like it should belong to a Jarl. There were jewelled cups and goblets that Tamaki already had his mind set on stealing on his way out. Maybe he could buy himself a house with a room just like this one with the gold he would get from selling them. Before Tamaki could give that any more thought, his eyes wandered to the centre of the room, where the source of the voice had come from. He had to crane his neck to see properly, and he felt a great deal of pain just from doing that. With a frustrated huff at not being able to see, he rested his sore head back on the featherbed’s mattress. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was helpless, and he hated it. What if his captor was going to hurt him? He wouldn’t be able to defend himself. He would have to just lay there, and let himself be hit. And beaten. Or interrogated. Hell, maybe this one was the sick kind who got off on that crap. Anxiety welled up in Tamaki at the thought of it all. He needed to get out of here, and he needed to get out of here </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There was someone in this room with him who wanted to harm him, and the fact that Tamaki wouldn’t be able to fight back when more pain would be inflicted upon him made the little flame that was his anxiety roar into a raging inferno in his chest. He went to go move his arm to grab the blankets and throw them off of himself, but he was too weak. His arm didn’t feel like it was his anymore, it didn’t feel like an extension of his actual body, it felt more like someone had tied an iron greatsword to his arm and said: “There, that is what you get for not eating for almost two weeks, then trying to run across Eastmarch.” Pain and nausea spread throughout his entire being, and he felt like the stupidest person in Tamriel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All he had left to do was silently beg for mercy, and admit to himself that… well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was truly and utterly </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrified</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m not a Bosmer.” Tamaki hated the way his voice sounded then. His throat was dry and parched, and the stutter had happened. He hated the stutter, </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> stutter. His voice was trembling, and he felt that familiar pull behind his eyes that let him know that he was about to start crying. He had tried to make his voice sound tough and confident, but when he heard chair legs scraping against quarried stone floors, followed by footsteps coming towards the bed, he shut his eyes and held back a whimper that was forcing its way out of his throat. He was so weak that he couldn’t even make fists at his sides to contain his fear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki could feel someone’s presence at the left side of his bed. He could hear the person’s breathing, and he tried to match it to his own to stay calm. Tamaki’s captor sat down on the space of empty mattress beside him, and it sunk unevenly to one side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki opened his eyes. He unpursed his lips. A quiet, barely audible gasp fell through them, and his breath wandered into the space between him and...a Nord. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki felt that he should have replaced the fear that had nestled itself deep inside of his chest with anger, but Tamaki felt neither of those emotions when indigo eyes clashed with the bluest eyes Tamaki had ever bared witness to. It was like someone had melted sapphires and poured them into the space where this man’s eyes were supposed to be. They sparkled like a night sky that you could not find in Tamriel, or even on Nirn for that matter. They contrasted against pale, fair skin that was just a shade darker than Tamaki’s elven skin. That skin stretched taut over a soft, yet defined jaw, and blonde stubble decorated his chin. It was a darker shade than the neat, golden head of hair that the man had. It was swept back into a pompadour. A couple of pieces of the soft-looking locks fell into his face, and he brought a sinewy, muscly hand up to his face to tuck them behind his ear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My mistake, I have never seen an </span>
  <em>
    <span>Altmer’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> ears do that before.” He said, placing a hand on the mattress and leaning against it, cocking his head in the process. He had a smile on his lips, a genuine smile, and the last time Tamaki had seen a smile like that was the night of his parents’ death, when his mother had tucked him in and told him that she loved him. It was a smile that you could tell meant no harm. It was a smile that no one could fake. It was a smile that was contagious. It wasn’t really a smile at all, come to think of it. The eyes did all the work with a smile like that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki averted his eyes. He turned his head in the other direction. It was the only action he had performed in the last five minutes that had not hurt him drastically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not an Altmer, either.” Tamaki mumbled, acting as if he suddenly found the bowl of lavender stalks sitting in a bowl on a shelf next to the bed interesting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. I’m sorry, pardon my rudeness. I just… you don’t look like a Dunmer. You don’t smell like one, either. Not anymore, anyways. I gave you a bath! Man, you were pretty dirty when I found you.” The last couple of words were mumbled from the Nord’s lips, like he didn’t want the elf to hear them clearly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Gods! He saw me naked?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The mortifying realization struck Tamaki. He was clean, he could feel it. But his nose was so badly damaged that he couldn’t smell anything. The last time he had smelt like actual soap was when his mom used to bathe him as a young boy, she used to make her own soap with goat’s milk and lavender. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes and tried to remember the smell, but his mind kept bringing back the fact that this man had taken the time to actually bathe him, and even take care of him. What else he done? Tamaki closed his eyes again and felt his cheeks heat up, and internally he blamed it on the heaps and heaps of blankets piled on him as high as the snow bank he had collapsed into. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki flinched and his eyes flew open when he felt the Nord get up from the bed and walk across the room. He was barefoot, so the creaking of the floorboards was all Tamaki could hear. That didn’t stop him from trying to follow the stranger with his eyes, but eventually the soft poof of blonde hair left his line of sight. He heard a door open, then more creaky floorboards, and then the sound of cookware clattering together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Nord returned a few painfully long minutes later, and Tamaki watched with furrowed brows as a brown, wooden bowl with steam rising from it was placed on the bedside table, along with a goblet of water. Tamaki’s eyebrows creased even more, so much so that it hurt his bruised face and broken nose, and as he went to go display his confusion to the Nord, he saw two arms reaching towards him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elf went stiff. He bared his sharp canines immediately. It was an automatic response that he had gotten into the habit of, and was used to having the hostility returned tenfold. However, the stranger’s facial features only portrayed fear and worry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He retracted his arms for a moment, and they were sort of just hanging awkwardly in front of him now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Woah. Okay, uh-“ The Nord stuttered dumbly, he looked around the room, as if there was someone sitting at the foot of the bed who was going to translate Tamaki’s thoughts and actions into words for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki pursed his lips and glared angrily at the Nord. Was he judging him? For being defensive? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Does this oaf expect me to let him push me around and such? He may get away with it when I’m unconscious but when I’m awake he better realize that I’m in charge. He obviously isn’t going to kill me. So if he’s gonna keep me alive, then what is he planning to-“ </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki’s thoughts were pushed from his head when he saw the Nord reaching towards him again. His upper lip curled up as he went to go flash his canines again. If he wasn’t strong enough to physically get up out of this bed and kick the Nord’s ass, he would bite his fingers off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Simple as that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Nord pulled back yet again, placing his hands in his lap and sitting up a little straighter. He licked a stripe over his lips, and Tamaki couldn’t believe what he was seeing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Nord was smiling that stupid smile again. The one where his eyes shone and his eyebrows slouched softly. Tamaki was confused as to why the man wasn’t frustrated. He looked and looked, but all the elf could find in that smile was kindness. A part of him hated it, but another part of him knew that he had to stop fighting this person, for whatever reason. He didn’t see any knife strapped to his thigh, or traps, or a team of bandits at his back. Tamaki had nothing for this man to steal from him, and he had even cleaned Tamaki up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had saved his life. That, and… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, his nose wasn’t working at the moment. But if  Tamaki’s assumptions were correct… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Those are some teeth you’ve got there. Never seen those before, not even on a Khajiit.” The Nord said, letting out a little laugh again. Tamaki even huffed a puff of air from his aching nostrils that was humorous in nature. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had never heard that joke before, he had only ever been picked on for his weird teeth. The locals from whatever city he would be staying in would tell him to keep his mouth closed, because they were hideous. Or the children would scream “vampire” and tell the guardsmen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blonde noticed Tamaki’s small laugh, and he smirked before nudging his head over to the bowl that he had brought in. “I bet they can bite through some pretty tough stuff. How about we give ‘em a break and try something soft? It’ll be easier on your stomach too, I bet.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki arched a brow, and turned his nose up at it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio laughed once again, and he picked up the bowl.  He fixed a portion of the red looking liquid on a spoon, then held it out for Tamaki to look at. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite not being able to smell a damned thing, Tamaki’s nose still twitched at the food, trying to get a scent. He looked up at the stranger through his long, dark eyelashes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t smell it.” Tamaki said flatly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Nord plopped the spoon back into the bowl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well you’re nose was crushed, so I wouldn’t think so.” He said, stirring the soup and grabbing a new spoonful for Tamaki to have. “Here, it’s cooled down a bit so it won’t burn.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a long stretch of silence as Tamaki’s eyes kept darting from the soup to the strange man holding it up for him to take a big sip of. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. Not that. I can’t smell if there is poison in it or not.” Tamaki answered truthfully, looking down at the clean goat hide that was keeping him warm. He felt more thawed out now, and even though it hurt him extremely badly, he placed his hands by his behind and lifted himself into a sitting position. He was starved, and he needed to talk to this man before he ate his strange, unknown food. He had been poisoned before, and it wasn’t fun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Nord’s big blue eyes bolted open at the fact that Tamaki was sitting up by himself, and he saw that it was hurting him. Tamaki’s wincing and hissing did not go unnoticed by the man, and he quickly placed the bowl back to it’s old spot on the bedside table before coming to Tamaki’s aid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Woah, woah, easy there.” His voice strained as he leaned over and fixed a few pillows between Tamaki’s back and the headboard, then finally placed a hand on the elf’s shoulder and assisted him in laying back against the soft bundles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their eyes met. There was a long, drawn out moment of silence. Their breaths mingled as their mouths hung open, and Tamaki definitely noticed the blush that rose to the blonde’s cheekbones. He ignored it, just like the Nord had chosen to ignore Tamaki’s blush earlier after telling him that he had indeed bathed the elf after rescuing him. The stranger’s blue eyes bore into Tamaki’s indigo ones. They looked less intimidating this close. They actually looked… soft. However, the dark bags that lay under them made a wave of concern wash over the blonde. It made him remember that he needed to take care of this man in front of him, as he was sick. His eyes wandered down the elf’s face, and fell on his lips. The Nord’s eyebrows shot into his hairline when he saw that the elf had his teeth on display yet again, and when he went to go meet the other’s eyes, they were more malevolent than ever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Nord sat back on his rear so quickly that he almost fell off the bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh! We were, um. Wait, you were- wait. You can </span>
  <em>
    <span>smell</span>
  </em>
  <span> poison?” The blonde cocked a brow and made a funny face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki growled. Actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>growled. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was a low, throaty sound that made the other man audibly swallow in shock. The elf’s eyes trailed from the bowl of soup waiting patiently to be eaten, and to the Nord’s frightened blue eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, I… uh, it’s not poisoned. I wouldn’t do that, I don’t even own poison, okay? Just-“ The Nord looked frustrated and frightened at the same time, as he kept looking at the angry, sick elf that lay in front of him. He knew that the elf probably didn’t believe him. And yet, he couldn’t think of what to do. He needed to get him to eat, or he would die. And he really didn’t want him to die. Not before he could get to know this mysterious, ethereal being that he rescued. He had so much he wanted to learn, and he had even more questions. But those could wait. He needed to finish what he started. The miserable thing wouldn’t be fully rescued until he was able to walk and properly move around all by himself. Realizing that he was running out of time, the Citizen of Skyrim did the only thing he could think of to get the elf to trust him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He picked up the bowl for the third time, hoping that he wouldn’t have to put it down again until it was empty and the contents of it were settled in the elf’s stomach. He grasped the spoon in his hand, resting it in between his fingers as he let some of the warm soup flow onto the utensil. He made sure to look the elf dead in the eyes as he popped the soup into his mouth. After chewing a few times, he swallowed. He smiled, and made a face at the elf that said: ‘See? Look how amazing and non-poisoned my soup is! Now would you please eat it?’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki looked from the bowl in the Nord’s hands, then back into his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The water?” The elf asked, his eyes darting over to the goblet on the nightstand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio sighed, and then took a long swig of the water from the goblet, trying his damndest to not slam it down after he was done. This was ridiculous, but Mirio knew it was necessary in getting the elf to eat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki, whose eyes were bigger and significantly brighter, leaned forward ever so slightly and didn’t break eye contact with the Nord as he dropped his jaw, opening his mouth wide. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His ears were dropped back the farthest the Nord had ever seen them, and he couldn’t help but make a mental note of how cute and expectant the elf looked in that moment; his mouth hanging open and waiting to be fed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m Mirio, by the way.” He said to the elf, holding up a spoonful from the second helping of tomato soup he had dished up for the elf, and feeding it to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio just watched as the elf closed his wobbly lips around the metal utensil, chewing away at the chunks of soft onion and tomato. He was paying no attention to the person providing said food for him, but Mirio didn’t mind. He was actually quite enjoying watching the way the elf’s lips smacked when he ate, and he stretched his mouth open wide so that he could swipe his tongue across his sharp teeth to clean them of any food that got stuck. Mirio also noticed that the elf had no manners, because the way that he was eating was rude. However, Mirio truly didn’t care. It was obvious that the elf had had a rough couple of weeks… or months. So he was in no place to judge right now. He wanted to know about those rough couple of weeks or months, though. Another thing he wanted to know was how on earth he had ended up in the state that he was in when Mirio had found him and hauled him out of the snow bank. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What can I call you?” Mirio asked as politely as possible while scraping the spoon at the bottom of the bowl to collect the last little bit that was there. He fed it to the elf, waiting for an answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All he got in return was the wet, disgusting sounds of the other’s eating.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you have a name?” Mirio wondered out loud. He placed the empty bowl and spoon on the side table to wash later. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elf looked at Mirio like he had three heads, and then swiped his bony, skinny wrist across his lips to clear it of any food residue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He swallowed, looking at the empty bowl longingly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seeing this, Mirio laughed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t have any more. You’ll be sick.” He said to the elf. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But i’m still hungry.” The elf blurted out tiredly, his voice even more raspier from the food he had just had. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio tried to contain a smile as he fisted the mountain goat fur and fixed it so that it was covering some more of the elf’s legs. It had fallen away sometime while he had been feeding him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You feel that way now, but you have to let your body absorb the food. If you just lay back and rest, you will feel full in a bit.” Mirio explained, motioning for the elf to lay down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To Mirio’s surprise, the other man actually complied. He grunted sorely as he scooted his bottom forward, and sighed tiredly when he felt his back hit the featherbed mattress after letting himself down slowly. There was a hint of satisfaction in his noises though, and it made Mirio happy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio fixed the blankets over the elf’s now flat body, even though he was receiving warning glares from him telling Mirio not to get too close just like he had earlier. All Mirio did was smile at the elf as he flattened out the furs and linens, and then backed off of the bed. The elf’s head poked out from the blankets, his ears folding back at how comfy and warm he was. Mirio couldn't help but gaze at him softly, the smile lingering on his face. The blonde thought of some more things he could ask the other man to get him to open up to Mirio a little. He wanted the other to feel comfortable here, but it was obvious that it was going to take a lot of time and hard work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was something Mirio was willing to do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you warm enough?” Mirio asked down to the elf in bed. He made sure to speak softly, like he had been this entire time so as to not hurt the elf’s ears or frighten him more than he already had. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thirsty?” The elf had had 3 whole goblets of water in between spoonfuls of soup, and he had even picked it up all by himself on the last couple of sips. Mirio was proud of him for that, but he didn’t voice that to the other man in fear of embarrassing him. He wasn’t sure if the elf was naturally this shy or he was so timid because he was at Mirio’s complete and utter mercy, but he wanted to find out. Mirio knew he would receive the answers to all his questions about the elf in due time, so there really was no point in being hasty about these things. They had all the time in the world, and he hoped that the elf knew that. He wouldn’t heal if he was in such a constant state of distress. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” The elf replied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, just holler if you drink it all and need more, okay?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elf just nodded, avoiding eye contact with Mirio for a moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio grabbed the dishware from the nightstand and turned on his heel to leave. The floorboards were creaking with each step he took. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The creaking stopped, and Mirio looked over his shoulder towards the bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elf’s eyes were closed, but Mirio noticed that the crease in his brow had relaxed, and was no longer noticeable from afar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Nord smiled before going into the kitchen, then scrubbed the bowl and spoon clean in a wash basin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had left the door to the bedroom ajar, and Tamaki listened to the sound of splashing water and wood crackling in a hearth while letting his pinky finger once again drag over the soft furs that covered him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was amazing the difference that an unpoisoned, home-cooked meal could make. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki no longer wanted to rob this man blind of his money and possessions, harm him, or even kill him for that matter. In fact, Tamaki was even beginning to trust him a little bit. Well, not a lot. He didn’t poison his food, so that counted for something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki swallowed his pride and just admitted to himself that maybe he was wrong about this man. No Nord, or anyone in Skyrim for that matter, had ever shown him kindness like the blonde had. He bathed him, clothed him, and even spoon fed him. He wasn’t sure if the man (who called himself Mirio) had heard Tamaki or not when he thanked him for the many helpings of soup. Tamaki had closed his eyes and pretended to sleep after saying it, making sure that this time, his ears stayed as still as stone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After feigning sleep for a little while, Tamaki really did fall into a deep sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He dreamed of his mother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was sitting at the edge of a lake. She was humming a soft tune, one that Tamaki had never heard before. He was approaching her from behind, and her humming became more clear the closer he got. He was the size and stature he was in the real world during the dream. Eighteen, taller, and more mature looking than the last time his mother had actually seen him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mom?” Tamaki called to his mother when he was standing so close behind her that he could reach out and touch her if he wanted to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mother said nothing. She simply reached beside herself, and grabbed a hairbrush that was there. She held it up for Tamaki to take into his hand, and he did. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do. She wasn’t talking to him, just facing away from him and looking at the lake. It was a beautiful day, so he didn’t blame her. There were only a few clouds in the sky, and the sun was shining. Tamaki squinted up in the sky, and closed his eyes to avoid being blinded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He listened to what was around him. Birds were chirping in the birch trees, and the wind was rustling through orange and brown leaves that were beginning to fall to the ground. Soon the trees would be bare. The sound of water gently flowing into the lake was heard in a nearby stream, and if he listened closely enough, he swore that he could hear the hoofbeats of a goat that had wandered too far from the mountains. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could hear everything, yet feel nothing. The sun didn’t feel warm. He could not feel the refreshing breeze on his skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t pay attention to that, though. He was just so, so happy to see his mom again after all these years of pain and misery. He smiled, but did not feel the stretch of it across his face. Tamaki took a seat behind his mother, and took a tendril of her Winter white hair in his palm, brushing through it gently. It looked like how silk looks when you run it through your fingertips. Tamaki was sure it felt just the same way, although he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t even feel the handle of the hairbrush in his other hand, or the scrape of the horse hair bristles when he combed through his mother’s strands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He repeated this process for what seemed like forever. He brushed his mother’s hair until it grew so long from her original length that it was beginning to flow into the lake. Despite this, Tamaki kept on brushing. Eventually his mom’s hair was all around him. It covered the ground they sat on, and it cascaded in the shores of the lake. If someone were to walk by, they easily could have mistaken it for a school of fish with how shiny it was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Tamaki lifted his hand to go brush out another bundle of hair, his mother’s hand grabbed his wrist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gasped. It was the only thing that he had physically felt in this dream so far. It would have felt nice, had she not been squeezing his small wrist so hard in her strong grasp. He whined, looking down at his forearm where it was beginning to turn an unsettling shade of red. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mom… that hurts-“ Tamaki sputtered out. He looked up, already opening his mouth in protest, expecting to see the back of his mother’s head. However, his mother had turned around to meet her son’s face. But what Tamaki was met with looked nothing like his mom. Her skin was purple and mottled, and it had broken open in gashes along her cheek and forehead. Decaying flesh and slime poured out of the wounds, and ran into her empty eye sockets. It looked as if she was turning herself inside out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was horrifying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yet, the most terrifying thing of all was when Tamaki’s eyes travelled down to her neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was cut open, and even though her body was in a state where it was no longer possible for her heart to pump blood, crimson red fluid sprayed out of the wound, covering Tamaki’s face and chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt the warmth of it absorb into his skin like a sponge, and he felt the hot breath from his mom’s mouth as she opened it and screeched at him. It was a high, terrorizing pitch. The birds ceased their singing, and the wind halted it’s blowing. The water stopped flowing, and there were no longer vibrations from the  hoofbeats of a goat being felt on the mossy, dampen earth. Bile flowed out of his mother’s mouth, along with rotten teeth, her tongue, and what seemed like dozens and dozens of maggots. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki tried to scream, but no sound came out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She began chanting his name like a spell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tamaki..” She wheezed, the scum from her mouth flying onto his face in droplets. It mixed with her blood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please!” She wailed, her eyebrows were moving, and slouching like she would have had the most painful look in her eyes. If she had even had any. Tamaki wanted to help his mom, but he didn’t know what she was saying “please” for. He didn’t know what she wanted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, Tamaki!” Her voice was becoming ghastly now, and she was leaning towards him more. Something inside of Tamaki was telling him to </span>
  <em>
    <span>run</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“PLEASE!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“PLEASE! Wake up!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki’s eyes shot open, and he drew in a breath of air that he didn’t know he needed so badly. His lungs were burning, his eyes were blurry, and his ears were ringing. Tamaki sat up in bed, despite his sore, aching body telling him not to. He had more important things to worry about right now than resting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god.” He heard a voice near him, and it sounded familiar, but it also sounded like it was underwater. He cast it aside in his mind as he looked down at his chest, expecting to see the blood and human decomposition that had been splattered all over his chest in his… dream. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki froze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was just another nightmare. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He let out a deep sigh, threw his head back against the headboard, then sunk back down in bed. Tamaki stared up at the ceiling, and inhaled deeply. He was still trying to catch his breath, and he could hear his pulse in his </span>
  <em>
    <span>ears</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t surprising that he had had another nightmare about one of his parents. It had felt so </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That’s the part that got him every time. It was the way his mother would always find some way to drag him in. She would whisper in his ear, or embrace him in a hug, or simply just… exist. It was the same way with his father. They would share some sort of moment that felt normal, or a happy memory that Tamaki still has of them before </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span> happened… but it would never last. The dream would always start off with what Tamaki imagined the afterlife being like: meeting his parents, and being happy with them again. And then his mind would find some sick, twisted way to turn it sour. His father killed him in a nightmare he had had last summer. He remembers the vividness of it, the way that he plunged the dragonbone dagger that originally belonged to him into his chest. And then there were the dozens of other nightmares he had about his mom. One where she was pregnant, and made Tamaki cut her open and pull the baby out, only for it to be… himself. Another recurring one where her throat is slit in front of him over, and over, and over again by someone in a black executioner's hood who he could never see the face of. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That one he had just had was a new one. He had never dreamt that before. He remembers the way her throat was cut… it looked just like the way it had the morning he had found her and his dad. He recalls the way that she spewed bile all over him. It reminded Tamaki of how he had vomited all over himself after seeing them dead for the first time, and the way that the chunks of half-digested elk meat felt on their way up his throat. He closed his eyes, and tried to block out the smell. That </span>
  <em>
    <span>smell</span>
  </em>
  <span>… of their rotting bodies… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki gagged, and he threw an arm over his face to block out the thought of that gods awful memory. He inhaled deeply once again, and he was met with the smell of… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lavender… and goat milk?” He murmured into the crook of his elbow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not only had it made his urge to vomit fade almost immediately, but he was also brought back to the memories of his mom giving him a bath. Not just that, but also washing his hands after coming in from outside and playing with the chickens. And when he helped his dad wash the dishes after dinner sometimes. He remembers the way that the house would smell like that soap for days after Haruno would make a new batch of it. She would keep a few cakes for Ryosuke, Tamaki and herself, and then she would take the rest of it with her to sell whenever she went into one of the hold’s capitals. That wasn’t her main source of income, obviously, but she would always bring back a trinket for Tamaki from one of the cities. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One time his mother brought him a golden ring from Solitude that had a Sapphire gemstone in it. It was enchanted to make the wearer’s speechcraft much better, but Tamaki didn’t really go out to shops very much. Whenever all three of them travelled somewhere together, Tamaki was rarely allowed to go in the city with his mom. He stayed with his father on the outskirts of whatever city they were at, and would wait until his mom came back with spices, medicine, and whatever else they couldn’t get in the forest surrounding their land or in Dawnstar’s shops. Because Solitude was the capital of Skyrim, it was a great place to have just three holds away. It wasn’t like they lived in Riften or Falkreath, where it would have taken them three or four days just to get to Solitude, not to mention the way back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki remembered what his father always used to say about Solitude: “It’s like the Riften of Skyrim’s Northwest. It has a body of water near it, a fishing company, and a bunch of Argonians constantly trying to scam you for your money.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wow</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that is some sniffer you’ve got. And, hey! Your sense of smell is back! Also, are you okay?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki glanced over to his side very, very slowly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” He squeaked, hiding behind his arm and sliding himself further under the blankets. He was suddenly feeling very self conscious about himself. How long had the blonde been sitting there? And why did he look so worried? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio was at the edge of the bed, and he leaned towards Tamaki. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were having a nightmare…” Mirio said, looking at Tamaki. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh. So the Nord had been watching him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were screaming, and I couldn’t get you to wake up.” Mirio added. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki just stared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re also… crying.” Mirio said softly. Both of his hands were planted on the bed, but he lifted one slowly. He brought it up in front of his chest, turned it over, and then held it out towards Tamaki.. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sconces on the walls were beginning to dim, the candles inside of them dying out. It made Mirio’s unwavering gaze all the more alluring. Gentle, blue sapphires were no longer surveying Tamaki like he was something in a glass case, like he was on display; like he was an exhibit. They still carried concern, worry, and curiosity, but now there was something else. It was shown in Mirio’s body language too, the way his hand wasn’t shaking when he brought it closer to Tamaki’s face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you’ve been through.” Mirio spoke softly, nearing a whisper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was respect, Tamaki realized when he didn’t feel the need to act defensive or peel his upper lip back to show his sharp teeth when Mirio’s hand began getting closer and closer to his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I’m here to help.” His voice really was a whisper now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki sat up, his body hurting, but not as badly it was before he had fallen asleep. He didn’t back away from Mirio, just stayed as still as possible. Tamaki kept his shoulders down, and his ears perked up. The blankets and furs fell back now that he was upright, and the cool air hit his covered skin. It felt nice, like he was letting his body breathe. The smell of the lavender and goat milk soap wafted up to his nostrils after being trapped beneath the blankets for so long. He pulled his long, outstretched legs towards himself and folded them underneath his bottom, and Tamaki felt how soft his skin was when the linen trousers grazed against his legs. He had never felt so clean. Years of dirt and grime had been washed away, and Tamaki thought that he would cry from how </span>
  <em>
    <span>unbelievably amazing </span>
  </em>
  <span>it felt to be warm, clean, full, and taken care of. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio’s eyes didn’t leave Tamaki’s when the action was made. However, pride filled the Nord’s eyes when he knew that the dark haired man had sat up all on his own. The elf’s cheeks had dried tear tracks on them, and a red, flushed tone. His long, dark eyelashes were wet and Mirio could see a dam of tears beginning to build on the elf’s bottom eyelid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay.” Mirio murmured. It was barely audible. He knew that the elf heard him, as tears finally overflowed in the corners of his eyes and began streaming down his rosy cheeks. “It’s okay.” Mirio repeated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki’s mouth formed a wobbly line, and his eyebrows tensed, sending a stronger rush of tears out. The nightmare, his sense of smell returning, the smell of the soap that reminded him so much of his mother; it was all so, so much. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was so quiet. The only thing that Mirio could hear was the sound of his and the elf’s breathing, fat teardrops falling onto the mattress, and his own heart pounding in his ears like a drum. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio’s outstretched hand was hovering just beside the elf’s left cheek, and when a rough sob was ripped from the elf’s throat, he went to pull his hand away in fear-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>until it was met with the hot, wet, soft skin of the others’ cheek. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio gasped softly. He watched in disbelief as the crying elf before him shut his eyes and gently rested his face in Mirio’s palm. His thumb slipped in on top of a pointed ear, and it folded back under the touch. The elf nestled his jaw so it was fixed in the curve of Mirio’s hand, and then let out another soft whine as more tears overflowed from his sullen eyes. They ran over Mirio’s hand, and trickled down his wrist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio wanted to pull the elf to his chest, and hold him closely there. He thought it would be too much for the elf right now though, and decided against it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two stayed like that until the candles in the goat horn sconces that were fixed on the walls burnt out, one by one. Eventually the room was pitch black, but Mirio didn’t dare pull his hand away. With the way his arm was extended, it was beginning to get sore. However, feeling the other man’s head slowly lull and jerk back and forth every couple of minutes as he fought sleep was too amazing a feeling to give up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was only when Mirio heard soft, grumbly snores that he realized the elf had fallen asleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Revelling in the fact that his sense of smell returned, and that he was beginning to trust Mirio a little more, the Nord tucked the elf into bed and left the room, leaving the door ajar so that the elf wouldn’t wake up in complete darkness before Mirio got a chance to replace the candles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now feeling lonesome, Mirio quietly stalked over to the wash basin in the corner of the dining room with a solemn look on his face. He had replenished the water in it earlier that morning, but it was murky and cloudy nonetheless. He glanced down at his hand, and stretched his fingers wide. He felt the salty tear tracks that the elf had left crack and break on his skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He dipped his hand in the water, and ran a cake of his homemade white and purple soap over and around the back of it and his digits, watching as the suds grew in size and quantity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio donned a soft, content smile as the scent of lavender and goat’s milk filled his nose. </span>
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</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Trust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Still not gonna give me a name, huh?” Mirio asked, sighing and placing a wooden plate full of food on Tamaki’s lap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elf eyed the plate’s contents. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a spread of a variety of different foods. A thin wedge of Eidar cheese, some diced tomatoes, grilled leeks that had been chopped up, a slice of bread that had been toasted and smeared in savoury spiced butter, and thin strips of some sort of grilled meat. It smelled like pork. It smelled good. No poison. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gods, Tamaki was glad to have his sense of smell back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His nose still hurt, but only when he would cough, sneeze, or touch it. That was hard though, because the piece of cloth Mirio had put over it to act as a bandage itched a little. Other than that, he felt like he was getting better really fast. His back still hurt, and his muscles were really achy, but he sat up in bed this morning just fine. However, moving around was quite difficult. After waking up, he had needed to pee. But the second he put his feet on the floor, applying pressure, he had collapsed. Mirio had come rushing in like a knight in shining armour, helping Tamaki back into bed, asking what was the matter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Voicing that he needed to make water to a person who he had cried in front of the night prior was embarrassing, to say the least. Mirio had understood, and Tamaki had checked his face for any sign of ridicule or one of his goofy smiles, but found none. The blonde Nord had simply offered Tamaki his arm as a crutch to grab onto, and helped walk him out the back door of Mirio’s house. Tamaki was dizzy because of how fast he had gotten up, and that resulted in him not getting to see what the other rooms of Mirio’s house looked like. Tamaki was grateful for something, though. And that was the fact that Mirio had gone inside and let Tamaki relieve himself in peace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was about an hour ago. After helping Tamaki back into bed, Mirio had made breakfast. He had then pulled up a chair with a plate of his own right next to the bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And now he was asking Tamaki </span>
  <em>
    <span>personal</span>
  </em>
  <span> questions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Great. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jon.” Tamaki said curtly, shooting Mirio side-eye. He shoved some leeks and tomatoes onto his toast with his fingers, dispersing them evenly to keep his mind busy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio swallowed a bite of his own food, a smile forming on his lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know you’re lying, but it’s okay. If you’re not ready to tell me your real name, it’s more than okay. Jon works for now.” Mirio cleared his throat. He smirked at Tamaki, who’s cheeks were full of food like a squirrel. Crumbs littered his lips and all around his mouth. His indigo eyes were wide in surprise at Mirio’s blunt honesty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki swallowed. He felt guilty. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was whacking himself with a big stick for being so… so… difficult. He had plotted to kill this friendly man, all but hissed at him, bared his fangs, accused him of poisoning him, and cried like a little kid against his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki looked down at his plate, setting his toast on it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And now he was eating all the man’s food. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m… sorry.” Tamaki said softly, wiping the crumbs from his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio hummed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm? For what?” The blonde asked, leaning back in his chair and kicking his feet up on the mattress. He was holding his plate in one hand, and a green apple in the other that had a bite taken out of it. “If this is about last night… you don’t need to worry about that. You were really tired.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki’s ears sagged back. He looked at Mirio, and then back down to his plate of food that was getting really cold, really fast. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m broken.” He breathed out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio stopped eating. He placed the half-eaten apple on his plate. Staring at Tamaki with sad, slanted brows, he nodded his head forward slightly, urging for the elf to elaborate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seeing this, Tamaki clenched his jaw and placed the plate on the bedside table. He twisted his body so he was facing Mirio. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to talk about why, why, </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Nord was doing this. Helping him, feeding him, caring for him. If Tamaki didn’t know any better, he thought that the Nord wanted to be his friend. Tamaki hated the idea of that, only because he had never </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> a friend before. The only people he had ever trusted in his life had died. How was he supposed to act? He didn’t know how to have a friend. He didn’t know how to </span>
  <em>
    <span>be</span>
  </em>
  <span> a friend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know how to care. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t even sure if he could learn how.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m like a broken toy. Why are you helping me?” The dark haired man asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a long pause. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess one could say that I have a tender, soft spot in my heart for broken toys and the like.” Mirio replied. His voice was sincere and honest, and he was wearing that smile that sent a ripple of something inexplicable pumping through Tamaki’s veins. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ignoring the feeling, shoving it down, Tamaki scoffed at Mirio’s words. He swiftly put his face in his palm to hide, but pulled away just as quickly when he bumped his damaged nose against it. He hissed in pain, and rolled his eyes with annoyance at this whole situation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Out of the corner of his eye, Tamaki could see that one of the corners of Mirio’s mouth was quirked up in a one-sided grin. He put his plate next to Tamaki’s on the nightstand, and then took his feet off of the mattress, now leaning forward in the chair with his arms resting on his knees. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio was wearing worn linen trousers, with a rust-coloured tunic that was accompanied by a dark, royal blue vest. It had yellow stitching on the front that looked like it was done by either a little kid, or an elder that was nearly blind. The tunic puffed out at the arms and the waist, anywhere where the vest had not tightly compressed the fabric around the Nord’s built chest. He was shaved and his face looked clean, but his hair was unwashed and it fell all over his face and forehead in golden, loose ringlets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They bounced when he inhaled deeply, and also when he dramatically exhaled afterwards. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s like I said last night, I don’t know what you’ve been through, but-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You want to help.” Tamaki finished his passage for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.” Mirio smiled. It was all bright, white, shining teeth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That made Tamaki shiver, but it didn’t stop him from letting what he had been wanting to say since he woke up this morning rise up inside of him. He wasn’t sure if it was rage or anticipation. More guilt, maybe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You want to help?” Tamaki asked this time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio just kept on smiling, nodding once again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You really want to help? You’re sure?” Tamaki’s voice was grim now, a hint of anger beginning to bubble up from the back of his throat. He didn’t let his voice rise in volume. It stayed low and restrained. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio’s smile fell. His eyebrows delved downwards, and he bit the inside of his cheek as he carefully studied Tamaki with his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When you found me,” Tamaki started, a pang of guilt cutting past the hostility in his voice. “I had been fleeing Windhelm. I was running for my life, and I was beginning to faint, so I dove into that snowbank to hide my body.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio looked at the floor between his feet, and then into Tamaki’s eyes. He took a deep breath before speaking again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Running for your life?” He spoke like he knew that Tamaki had done something bad, and there was disappointment in his tone. “What did you do?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I killed three guards.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was silence. It felt like it lasted for minutes, but in reality only a few seconds had passed. The word “killed” was hanging in the air between them like the smell of a rotten corpse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because?” Mirio asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki’s body stiffened. Had the Nord really just asked that? Tamaki was expecting a lot of things from the Nord in reaction to what he had just told the man. Shock, betrayal, anger, disbelief, fear… but </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> curiosity. Tamaki opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He hesitated to tell Mirio the real answer. If the blonde had had such a reaction to Tamaki’s confession, how would he react when he told the other man that he was on the brink of death? That he was starved so badly that he had to do it, or he would have died? Would the Nord find him selfish? Would he be enraged when Tamaki would tell him that the guards he had slaughtered in freezing cold blood had been Stormcloaks? Had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nords</span>
  </em>
  <span>? What if one of them were related to Mirio, or Mirio knew them? One of them had even had a lack of an accent, just like him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because…” Tamaki began. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio raised his eyebrows, looking expectant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was the first time Tamaki had seen even a sliver of anything other than kindness and benevolence from Mirio. He looked annoyed, and it terrified Tamaki. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“B-because…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and legs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because I- because….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m harbouring a wanted criminal who killed three Stormcloak soldiers.” Mirio’s voice had changed significantly now. It was low, and every word he said was sharp and pronounced. The dark, raspy tone wasn’t helping Tamaki’s anxiety, only making it worse. “What’s the bounty for that, again? Murdering three hold guards within the walls of a city?” He was standing up now, and he slowly took a few steps over to the side of the bed. He was towering over the edge of it, staring Tamaki down the way a sabre cat stalks a rabbit after it hasn’t eaten in a week. “Four-thousand gold septims. Or is it five? I can’t remember. Can you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki shook his head. It was hanging low, his chin touching his chest. Tears were accumulating in his eyes, and he watched through blurred vision as the droplets fell onto the cream-coloured linen trousers he wore. He knew it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He fucking knew it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He knew that once this man found out what he had done, his attitude towards Tamaki would change instantly. He couldn’t believe that he trusted this man. He was just like the rest of the Nords in this cold, unforgiving province. Tamaki had been right all along. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well? Are you going to tell me why I’ve been caring for a ruthless assassin the last 3 days, when I thought that I was helping out a fellow warrior this whole time?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki’s ears were ringing from the rising levels of anxiety that were coursing through him, but even he couldn’t miss what Mirio had just said. The elf froze. His gaze was focused on a particularly large damp spot on the inside of his thigh that had been created by one of the many tears that were spilling from his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ruthless… assassin? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio thought that he was an </span>
  <em>
    <span>assassin?!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not what you think I am!” Tamaki choked out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio scoffed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not an assassin!” Tamaki sobbed, his head snapped up to meet Mirio’s eyes. “I don’t kill for pleasure! I killed because I was in </span>
  <em>
    <span>pain</span>
  </em>
  <span>! You have to understand. Please. It was self defence!” Tamaki was having a full on meltdown now. Tears coated every inch of his cheeks, and he was gasping for breath. With every painful memory that he tried to pronounce, the harder that it got to breathe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Self defence?” Mirio’s voice lost its intimidating tone. Now it was laced with confusion. Interest, even. He sounded as if he didn’t believe the elf, and that just made Tamaki lose hope in the possibility of Mirio ever trusting him again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why do I want his trust so badly?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tamaki thought to himself, pressing a palm to his rib cage. He let himself feel the rising and falling of his frame. Maybe it would relax him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a pause while Tamaki collected himself. He was close to hyperventilating as he fought to get his breathing under control.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re a Nord. You know all too well how elves are treated in that city.” Tamaki grimaced, but his eyes were silently screaming for mercy behind the strong, brave front he was putting on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio’s face went as white as snow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was no secret to the people of Skyrim that most of Windhelm’s population </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated </span>
  </em>
  <span>elves. The elven race isn’t tolerated there, so much so that the Nords felt that they needed to shove all the elves to an entirely different part of the city to keep them away. The Gray Quarter, it’s called. The Gray Quarter is like the Dunmers own town inside of a city. It’s got an inn, a shop, and although they are smaller than most; houses for them to hide from Windhelm’s cold in. With the Dunmer in The Gray Quarter, the Nord’s didn’t have to worry about being around them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But that didn’t stop the Nords from being discriminatory. Being an elf in Windhelm, let alone a Dunmer, came with inequity, discrimination, and accusations of being an “Imperial spy.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They don’t even give any of them a chance. Those Nords get one glance at your pointy ears and you are immediately cast out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was down on my luck. I had- </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>no money. I have no family. I was staying on Windhelm’s streets. They wouldn’t let me into any buildings because I’m an elf. Not even the fucking temple. I was there for two weeks. Starving. Cold. Miserable for the entirety of the fortnight that I spent there. Until the day I had to flee because a guard kicked me in the nose and beat me because I stole </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>loaf of stale bread. He was going to throw me in a cell! I… I had no choice. I panicked. He grabbed me, and then more of them c-came, and I- I just… I lost it. I felt trapped. I ran. I didn’t care if I was going to die. As long as it wasn’t by the hands of the same race that slaughtered my parents like pigs.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elf’s words shocked Mirio to his core. The thin, shaking man was sitting on his thighs in bed, his feet placed behind him. The tunic Mirio had dressed him in three days prior was sticking to his chest from his own sweat, and tears stained his pants. His face looked like it did last night when he woke from his nightmare. He looked terrified. He was shaking now, after talking about what had happened to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s how he knew the elf wasn’t lying about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Besides, Mirio had told the other man that he would help him. No matter what he had been through. Right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio stepped back a few paces before sitting himself back down in the chair. His ears were ringing, and his head felt like it was spinning. He was having a hard time thinking. The sound of wood burning and breaking in the hearth, the birds chirping outside through the muffled walls of his house, everything he could hear sounded muffled and distorted. The only things Mirio could hear clearly were the words Tamaki had said to him. They were heard through his mind like a spell being chanted from the centre of his mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Starving.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cold.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m an elf.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Slaughtered my parents.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have no family.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio felt sick to his stomach. What had he done? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wanted the elf to trust him. He wanted to be someone the elf could feel safe around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But not like this. Not under these circumstances. Not because Mirio had basically forced him to. Not because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>fear</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Yet, despite that, he had still opened up to Mirio. And that was unmistakably one of the bravest things Mirio had ever bared witness to, somehow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio’s legs felt numb. How was he supposed to apologize after being so cruel?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry.” Mirio started. His voice cracked. Hearing this, Tamaki’s head whipped to the side to meet the other’s gaze. His tears were starting to dry, but Mirio’s were just beginning to fall. “The only thing I’ve wanted you to feel since you woke up here was wanted. And safe.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki gaped at him from the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I never should have said those things, Jon. I was just scared. I was doubting myself. You’re right. You’re not an assassin. You’re not just some elf, either.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki sat up straighter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re a survivor.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tears flowed from Mirio’s eyes, and he swept them away with the sleeve of his tunic. He didn’t know what to say next, so he just kept his head down in hopes that the elf would voice his thoughts on what Mirio had just said to him. He broke his silence to say one more thing, although he felt like he was talking to an empty room with how quiet the elf was being. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t expect you to trust me after I just pulled that on you-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A hand grabbed at the wrist Mirio was using to wipe his tears, and immediately he looked up through his dampened blonde lashes. It was the elf, and he had gotten up from the bed all by himself. His legs were shaking, and he looked like he was on the verge of collapsing. But he was putting some of the pressure on Mirio’s wrist, and Mirio was more than alright with that. The blonde had decided earlier that morning that after he had helped the elf outside to relieve himself, that he could use him as a crutch as much as he needed to. The dark haired man had leaned on him the previous night, and Mirio shivered at the memory of how the other’s tears slid over his skin and the way his cold cheek felt against Mirio’s warm palm. And this morning he found it awfully endearing, the way that the smaller man blushed when he grabbed onto Mirio’s forearm with both hands for support while walking outside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I trust you.” Tamaki gasped out in one quick breath. “Don’t expect me not to trust you. Not after all you’ve done for me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their faces were so close. Mirio could feel the elf’s breath ghosting over his skin. He had the most mesmerizing eyes. They were like amethysts, and Mirio wondered if they shined when they were exposed to sunlight. Tamaki’s breath was warm against his skin, and it smelled like toast. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re wrong about one thing, though.” Mirio said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you are. You said you didn’t have any family.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a long pause. Tamaki’s eyes looked hopeful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have me, Jon.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The grip on Mirio’s wrists tightened, and then loosened just as quickly. The elf averted his eyes. His legs were weak and shaky, and his gaze kept alternating between the shaking limbs and his bed he had crawled from. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Tears trailed down Tamaki’s cheeks as he spoke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio didn’t say anything, just watched and waited as the elf sobbed in front of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it good?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki was back in bed now. He was propped up against a few pillows that were leaning on the headboard, and he had just finally finished his breakfast. It had gotten cold, but it was still good nonetheless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After swallowing the last bite of food, Tamaki nodded in response to Mirio’s question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope you don’t mind, but I used the produce from your knapsack. It was beginning to spoil.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki froze. It technically wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he didn’t want to tell Mirio that. He didn’t want to unload too much on the blonde in one day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki’s mind wandered back to images of the lady he had forcefully stole that food from. He remembers her bated breaths, how she shook from being so frightened, and how he had held his dagger against her throat to scare her even more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Speaking of his dagger… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It… wasn’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but thank you for preparing it all. It was really good.” Tamaki muttered. Mirio had held out his hand to take Tamaki’s plate, and the raven-haired man handed it over while wiping the back of his hand across his lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I figured that much. It’s okay, you did what you had to do to survive.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Heading that eased some of the guilt that was threatening to burst from within Tamaki’s chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of my belongings…” Tamaki began, slouching down in bed, pulling the covers up over his chest. He gave Mirio an expectant look. Like the smaller man was worried that maybe Mirio had sold them for profit or as payment for saving him. Tamaki knew that that was just his mind telling him that, as Mirio didn’t seem like the kind of person who would do that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everything’s safe. Your bag, your bow, your armour, and that bafflingly cool dagger are all locked in a chest in my cellar. You can have them back once you're better, maybe in a week or two.” Mirio said, tucking a chair under a desk that was 5 feet from the foot of the bed Tamaki lay in. He assumed that it was Mirio’s desk, as it had rolls of parchment scattered across it, with an inkwell that had turned over and stained the surface of the wood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki exhaled, relieved that his possessions were still there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s some bow that you’ve got going, too. Beautiful engravings. I’d love to hear the story behind that sometime, if you’re up for it.” Mirio suggested, raising an eyebrow in Tamaki’s direction. He was stacking a butter knife onto his plate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki’s eyes weren’t on Mirio, but said plate that was currently balancing on Mirio’s forearm. It had the rind from the cheese on it, and an apple core. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bring me more of your delicious food, and maybe I will.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only when Mirio let out a great, big, bellowing laugh did Tamaki feel embarrassed at what he had just said. Mirio’s laugh was… so nice. It felt comforting, like it was filling in an awkward gap that the room had been plagued with ever since Tamaki awoke in it. It was more beautiful than the voice of any bard, that was for sure. The corners of Mirio’s eyes creased when he laughed, and it made him look happy. And vibrant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It brought a smile to Tamaki’s lips, despite his embarrassment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’ll take that as a cue to start dinner then! How does stew sound?” Mirio said, little huffs of laughter still chasing after his words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki’s throat tightened. He was hungry but… not for that. He hadn’t eaten that since… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not… good…” Tamaki answered quietly, but honestly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mirio froze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not stew? Okay, hmm… how about some rabbit then? I just grabbed some new spices the other day.” Mirio suggested. He wondered why he didn’t like stew. It was a staple to Skyrim’s cuisine. But, hey, if the elf had some sort of intolerance Mirio didn’t know about, then it wasn’t his place to ask. Not really. Not yet, anyways.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki nodded. He suddenly felt really tired, and Mirio mentioned how pale he had become before asking Tamaki if he needed anything else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elf just shook his head gently, and turned over in bed. He pulled the pillows around himself, and yanked the blankets up over his head. He heard the door squeak on its hinges, but it was not shut completely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He let the sounds of Mirio’s footsteps and movements from the other room distract him from the distant, familiar feeling of chunks of elk meat curdling in his throat, and the taste of bile on his tongue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was so long ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it felt like just yesterday that he had lost his parents. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only thing that was keeping him from truly believing that his parents were still alive, and that he was going crazy, was the smell of lavender soap trapped in the fabric of the sheets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And remembering the moment earlier. With Mirio. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And how close they had been. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tamaki had felt Mirio’s pulse in his wrist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>wild</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Erratic. Frantic, but captivating. Tamaki could hear Mirio’s everything, </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His ears had picked up the pounding of Mirio’s heart in his chest. The pumping of blood in his veins. The way each inhale made blood surge up through his neck with his nervous, bated breaths. Tamaki had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>accepted</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He had Mirio’s trust, and that made Tamaki feel like he was holding the world in his very hands. Like he was in charge of the most important thing in the world, and making sure that it wouldn’t slip through his fingers like water was going to be the hardest task of his life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he was going to try. And he knew that he would have Mirio’s help, no matter what. </span>
</p><p>
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